The Wandering Poet
By John Herlihy

The wandering poet now takes to the road,
Skippin’ and hoppin’ like an expectant toad.
Back home on the highway where he’s lookin’ spry,
Followin’ his own footsteps, what a happy guy.
Leavin’ behind all those days now dead and gone,
He’s ready to lift mountains, feelin’ the brawn.
To uncover all the mysteries of the road that might be,
To awaken the sleeping spirit of the traveler free.
With no carry-on baggage, always travellin’ light,
Only the distant horizon now focused in his sight.
If he could take only one thing on this new journey,
Do you have any idea what that might possibly be?
An open heart, his free spirit, with the power to open,
The hidden door of imagination as his magic token.